


Harry, Undercover

by LakeWitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Auror Harry Potter, Bisexual Harry Potter, Draco is still gay and not interested in female Harry that way, Female Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, Genderfluid Harry Potter, Getting to know each other with Draco not knowing Harry is Harry, Harry is assigned to go undercover, M/M, Ministry Employee Draco Malfoy, Technically a casefic but at least 90 percent is about their relationship, The inevitable fall-out, There's a serial killer on the loose, Trans-potion, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 00:57:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18021800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LakeWitch/pseuds/LakeWitch
Summary: A serial killer is targeting muggleborns and Robards is getting desperate for leads. He assigns Auror Harry Potter to go undercover with the Malfoys to see what, if anything, he can discover.Harry, with the help of Luna Lovegood and her trans-man boyfriend Miller Bulstrode, concoct a plan that has Harry realising he might be genderfluid and might have some serious feelings for Draco Malfoy. Too bad Harry can't tell Draco the truth without risking the mission and their budding friendship.





	Harry, Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I thought of this Fic idea so long ago, when I saw a pic of Boyd Holbrook (remember when we collectively thought he made the perfect Draco?) with a female model who looked vaguely Harry-ish. And now here we are.
> 
> Warnings for some (eventual) mentions of violence (like 2 or so) - I don't think it's terribly graphic but there are some brief mentions of hexing, being tied up, and cut with a knife. No serious damage done, though.

Harry  Potter's  mouth  was  set in a firm line, grimly observing the  scene unfolding in the cobblestoned alleyway  in front of him. Ron Weasley, his partner, was busy interviewing  potential  witnesses, and taking notes on his  notepad.  A handful of other  Aurors  were  analyzing  blood and hair samples with their wands, or photographing and tagging evidence.

Harry just stood, rather  stoically,  near  the body as the others busied about. Another  muggleborn  had been murdered. The third in a month.  She was a young woman this time, with pretty blond curls. She'd been  beaten, her body torn  gruesomely, as if attacked by a  large animal.

"What do you reckon, Harry? Same killer as the others?" Ron asked suddenly at Harry's side,  giving him a small start. 

"I've no doubt," Harry replied.  

"Her name's Janet  Biddleton.  Was on her way to a job interview this morning,  she was  just fresh out of Hogwarts.  Estimated time of death is 2pm. Another one killed in  the  light  of day. And  _again_ ,  seems no one saw anything. Just some shop owners heard her scream, but when they went to find  her,  she was like this.  No sign of the  perpetrator.  Real  awful."  

"Mm," Harry acknowledged, scratching absently at his beard. "I'll meet you back at the department."  

Ron found himself looking into the  empty space Harry had just disapparated from, and shook his head.  

~~

Harry was looking over the case files  for what felt like the hundredth time  back at his cubicle when Robards, his department head, appeared by his desk.  

"Sir?" Harry  asked.  

"Potter, come on over to my office. I want to talk to you about this case."  

Harry followed wordlessly. Robards held the door open for him and gestured towards the small wooden chair in front of his desk. Harry obliged.  

"Listen,  Potter," Robards said as he sat,  "we've got a serial killer on our hands and ordinary  Auror  work isn't cutting it. The killer isn't leaving us anything substantial to go on. We need to step it up. We need undercover  Aurors."  

"Undercover..." Harry echoed.  

Robards ignored him. "I'm assigning you undercover to  investigate the Malfoys."  

"The   _Malfoys_?” Of all the potential culprits: former Death Eaters, ex-convicts, assorted ne'er-do-wells, the Malfoys weren’t even on Harry’s   _list_.  “But,  sir, Lucius Malfoy is  in Azkaban,  and you couldn't  possibly  think Narcissa... And, Draco Malfoy is an  employee here at the Ministry, a decent  one at that, I’ve  heard. I really don't think they have anything to do with this," he protested.  

Robards was entirely unaffected.  "The Malfoys are a well-connected family. Have always been.  I trust I don't need to remind you of their support of Voldemort.  If they aren't responsible  themselves,  they may associate with the one,  or ones, who are.” He sighed, eyeing Harry sharply. “You won’t be the only  Auror  undercover. We’ll have more eyes and ears around, strategically placed."   

Harry clamped his mouth shut and nodded,  trying to ignore an uneasy feeling creeping up.  

"Good. Find a way to go deep undercover with the Malfoys,  particularly  Draco Malfoy.  Who do you want as your contact on this?"  

Harry knew  the person he chose, the person who'd be his only contact to the department while undercover, had to be someone trustworthy, but didn't immediately cast suspicion  on his identity  if they were seen together. He couldn't pick someone like Ron or Hermione.   

"Luna Lovegood." She'd popped into his head, and,  after saying her name out loud,  he just knew it felt right.  

"Luna Lovegood?" Robards raised an eyebrow. "The  magizoology  consultant?" 

"Yes." Harry was sure.  

"Fine." Robards scribbled a note, and handed Harry a glass marble.  

Harry took it, stuffing it into his pocket. The department used small tokens that were spelled to alert them of the  holder’s whereabouts, as long as the Auror touched the object and  spoke  a codeword.   

Robards showed Harry the paper he'd written the codeword on, it said 'Flobberworms'. Harry nodded acknowledgment. If he was ever in need of back up, all he had to do was touch the marble and say 'Flobberworms' and a team of Aurors  would come. It was pretty handy, because the magic was dormant without the codeword, and couldn't be detected.  

Robards  incendioed  the paper.  

"Sir," Harry hesitated, "the Malfoys know me well, how can I-"  

"You're a wizard, aren't you? Find a way."   

Harry  didn't press further.  

~~

Harry met Ron back at their cubicles, plopping down in his chair.  

Ron raised  an  eyebrow. "What's up mate?"  

Harry  groaned and rubbed his scruffy face with both hands. "I've just got a special assignment from  Robards."  

"Oh?"  

"Undercover with  the  Malfoys."  

Ron raised both eyebrows. "Fuck..."  

Former Death Eater families, the Malfoys among them, kept a low profile these days since the war. They were rarely seen in public, rarely seen visibly employed, rarely seen at all. This segregation only  served to raise  the general public's suspicion. Many believed these families should be cast out, banished from Britain's wizarding world. Many had already left the county on their own volition, but some  had  chosen  to remain.  

Draco Malfoy was one of the very few that worked, that stepped out in public, that Harry had even  _seen_  since the war.  Perhaps that was why Robards saw Draco Malfoy as  their  "in" into the private world of post-war pureblood families.  

Harry and Draco Malfoy were not friends,  not by a longshot,  but they were civil enough, which  made the idea of using Draco Malfoy to  try to  get insider information all that more uncomfortable.  Harry would  see him around in the Ministry, they might  nod to one other, maybe say the old  familiar  tight-lipped  "Malfoy"/"Potter" exchange. They might be at  opposite sides of  the same Ministry holiday party or the odd pub but it never extended beyond that. Harry knew that Malfoy seemed to be doing well in his Department of Magical  Transportation - Broom Regulatory Control division.  He'd always enjoyed Quidditch, and thereby brooms,  or  at least  Harry  could only assume.  

So now Harry needed to find out more about Draco Malfoy. He had  permission  to  view  his employment records, so that was  where  he decided to start.  The employee records department was stuffed in a boring, dusty corner of Human Resources.   

A  middle-aged  woman, reading a paperback, looked up at Harry as he approached. He was about to greet her, when she nodded at him  dismissively  and  went back to her book.  So  Harry  walked straight on past her to the M's, and found "Malfoy,  Draco" easily enough. He spell-copied  the file  and then made his way back to his cubicle.   

At his desk,  Harry flipped open  the folder  and was  immediately  greeted with Malfoy's employee ID photo. The Malfoy in the photo looked ill-at-ease. His eyes would dart to the side and he was picking at the cuff of his left sleeve. He looked tired, with dark circles under his eyes. Harry thought he looked rather like a trapped mouse, wanting to flee with  nowhere  to go.  Harry sighed and closed the file.  The picture had probably been taken a lot closer to the war. Draco didn’t seem to look quite so   _haunted_  these days, though he was still quiet and subdued and so different from the boy he knew at Hogwarts. He used to be confident, passionate, determined... And as horrible as he was back then, at least he’d had that spark. That spark of   _life_. But Harry knew he was hardly one to talk, he felt pretty drained and nearly burnt out these days. The murders were taking their toll.  

His thoughts were interrupted with  a  commotion  his co-workers were making, he gathered they'd just returned from lunch and  a few pints.  Harry rubbed his eyes and decided to take his work home.  

Number 12  Grimmauld  Place  was much quieter than the office, save the few creaks and groans of the old house, which Harry had become well-used to. He lit the fireplace and  settled down into the sofa with Malfoy's file.  

"Now we can have some privacy," he murmured to Malfoy's portrait.  

Harry read it all, top to bottom, twice.  

Draco Malfoy  was always punctual, never took a sick day or vacation. His performance reviews were positive  but  uninteresting, and his salary was very modest.   

He didn't know what he'd expected or hoped to find. It was pretty dull. Harry  held Malfoy's portrait and swung himself sideways so that he was lying down, looking up at Malfoy in his hands.  

Harry frowned up at Malfoy for a time, before drifting off to  sleep.  

 

_He was being held from behind, a warm, flat chest pressed into his back, and someone's thighs clamped  at  his hips. Hands clung to his stomach, and he felt breath on his neck that made all the little hairs stand up._ This is nice _, Harry thought. He ground his ass back towards the mystery crotch behind him, took one hand off  his broom to touch the back of one of the  slender  hands gripping at his shirt.  "What are you doing?!" a posh, but hysterical-in-the-moment voice demanded._ Oh _. That's when he noticed  the  fiendfyre. The screaming. The broom he was evidently flying. Or not so much flying, as he was heading straight into the violent flames.   "Harry!" Malfoy  shouted at him.  But Harry couldn't manage to move, as much as he tried. His limbs were like treacle._   

 

He woke up panting, sweating on the couch, and with an uncomfortable hard-on. Harry palmed at his crotch through his  trousers  and got up. A shower was very much needed.  

He stripped down in the bathroom, letting his clothes fall to the floor.  

Harry frowned down at his erection. "That's a bit messed up, you know."  

Eyeing himself in his mirror,  _I look so old_ , he thought. He glared at  the grey streaks in his hair and beard, and sighed at his unsightly scars.  He had too many now, the most prominent was the deep one on his cheek. At least it distracted from his  all-too-famous lightning bolt, he figured.  

Climbing into the hot shower, he let the water wash over him and he just stood there for a while.  He hadn't thought of the  fiendfyre  in a long time. It must be because he was thinking about Draco Malfoy again.  He swiftly and roughly took care of his arousal, determined not to think about that dream or about Draco Malfoy at all.

~~

The next day found Harry busying himself by looking up every single person he thought Malfoy had been friends with at Hogwarts. The Ministry kept surprisingly detailed tabs on the Slytherins, or, perhaps it wasn’t that surprising. Prejudice against Slytherins had been rampant in Harry’s experience, starting from when he first heard of them, at eleven years old, right up to present time. It’d just taken him a long time to realise it, long after he was finished at Hogwarts.   

Every single Slytherin in Harry’s year, besides Draco Malfoy and Miller (formerly Millicent)  Bulstrode, were living out the country. For example: Pansy Parkinson was in France, Blaise  Zabini  in Italy, Greg  Goyle  was in  _America_.  

Harry couldn’t really blame them, Britain’s wizarding world was still raw from its war wounds, and former Death Eaters, their families, and associates were often scapegoats for the people’s pain. 

So, all his friends were gone, and Malfoy had stayed. Stayed to live a seemingly lonely life.  

By Friday, Harry was feeling ridiculous and rather like this whole thing was pointless. The whole week had turned up nothing, as he’d expected all along. But he couldn’t just barge up to Robards with an ‘I told you so.’ 

Instead, dressed in his Invisibility Cloak, he'd decided to scope out Malfoy at work. It was one of the most mundane days of his life, watching Malfoy sat at his desk surrounded by piles of memos and invoices. Watching him daydream, and fiddle with his quill. Was Malfoy’s job really so dull? It certainly looked it. Harry didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but he though Malfoy would get to fly around testing brooms _at least_. 

After the work day finally ended, he followed the broom regulation department to a nearby pub. They all walked there, shuffling along. Everyone, with the exception of Malfoy, had to be at least 60 years old.  

Malfoy kept his head down, trailing behind the rest, dressed in plain black robes, which hung loosely off his body and did nothing for him.  

Harry slipped into the dark, dingy pub after them.  They all settled into a table, while Harry leaned against a wall nearby to observe. He figured that maybe, if Malfoy was the social drinker type, this might be a good place to “meet” him one day, if/when Harry could figure out a disguise and a persona to use, although that was something Harry was very much dreading. He didn’t have the faintest idea of what sort of person Malfoy would respond well to. The man certainly never showed any signs of interest  in any people  thus far.  He sighed from under his cloak, mentally cursing Robards’ bloody assignment. Again. 

Malfoy went up straight away to buy the first round. He didn’t look around at anyone, he just politely put in the order, laid some coins  down, and took the drinks back to the table.   

It was beers for Malfoy’s colleagues, and what looked like a scotch for himself.  Malfoy sipped it, looking at his co-workers, and he nodded when appropriate. But he didn’t seem to talk much at all.  

Harry was finding it all terribly dull. After nearly half an hour, when Malfoy’s drink was empty, the man stood and mumbled some words to his colleagues. With one final nod, he walked off and out of the pub. Harry scrambled to follow him.   

Once through the doors, all Harry saw was Malfoy there for a second, a pop, and then he was gone.  The pub was probably not the best place to “meet” him, then.  

~~

The following week proved just as uneventful, more of the same. Work, then home. Malfoy even ate lunch at his desk.

On Thursday, after the work day ended, Harry followed Malfoy out onto the street outside the Ministry. Malfoy, still dressed in those boring black robes, popped into a little bookshop. Harry waited on the sidewalk, watching Malfoy through the window, watching him trail  those slender fingertips over book spines, with lips parted and mouthing words to himself, scrunching his face up in thought, and then--deciding.  It was the most expressive Harry had seen of him since this assignment started. It was... almost fascinating. 

Malfoy paid, they gave him the book in a brown paper bag.   

As he exited and walked a few steps, a short middle-aged man with spikey black hair approached him.  

“Death Eater scum!” the short man sneered.   

In a flash, Malfoy had already been hexed and spat on.  

Malfoy just stalked off, without a word, shoulders slumped and cradling his arm.  

Harry observed the short man, just standing there, with a look of triumph on his features as Malfoy disappeared around a corner.  

“Petrificus  totalus,” Harry hissed.   

~~

“Draco Malfoy declined to press assault charges against the man you apprehended,”  Robards said, sat in his desk across from Harry. 

Harry nodded glumly. He’d expected as much, but was glad he brought the man in nonetheless. Now for the real reason he was in Robards office: “Sir, I’ve been trailing Draco Malfoy. There's nothing there. He’s a normal bloke, goes to work, goes home, goes to the pub with his co-workers. There’s nothing to indicate he has any knowledge of this case.”  

Robards glared at him. “Need I remind you?  The assignment was not to follow Draco Malfoy. You are to go undercover.”  

Harry wanted to argue, wanted to protest, he really did. He’d thought all his efforts would show Robards that his talents were better used elsewhere, that it wasn’t worth the effort of coming up with a disguise and a back story. But it was clear there wasn’t going to be any getting through to Robards, not today.  

~~

Harry  decided it was time to talk to Luna, he couldn’t put it off any longer. Robards had made it abundantly clear that he was going to have to follow this through all the way, and once Harry was undercover, Luna was going to be his only link to Robards and the Ministry. So, he  firecalled  her, and she answered right away.  

"Hi Harry."  

"Hi Luna," he smiled, she’d always had the ability to put a smile on his face, just by being her.  

"Do you want to come over for tea?"  

"Sure, um thanks, there was something I wanted to discuss with you."  

"I know, come on through."  

He  flooed  over  and  she  waited for him to brush off his robes before she hugged him hello.  

"Make yourself at home Harry, I'll put the kettle on," she said and glided off to the kitchen.  

Harry sat on her antique lime green couch. Nothing matched in her living room, but in a strange way it all seemed to fit. She had an orange recliner, a shag carpet, lots of mismatched pillows and throws, and portraits of family and friends mixed in with still life paintings covering the walls.   

"Is Miller here?" Harry called towards the kitchen.  

Miller, whom Harry had known as Millicent  Bulstrode back at Hogwarts, was Luna's boyfriend. He'd transitioned not long after Hogwarts.   

"Heya  Harry," answered a deep baritone entering the living room.   

Harry stood up to shake Miller's hand. He was a bigger man with a  bushy  brown beard and kind eyes.  They both settled down onto the couch.  

Harry cleared his throat. “I imagine you know what’s going on.”  

“I know you’re trying to infiltrate the Malfoys,” Miller  answered with a sly smile.  

Harry groaned, rubbing his face.  “Well... yeah.  Not that there’s much point of it, if you ask me.  I’ve been trying to find out about Malfoy—Draco--anything I can use, but... His life seems so dull. He goes to work, he goes home. He goes to the pub with his co-workers once a month and leaves early.”  

Miller smiled sadly, nodding.  

“You were in Slytherin with him, is there anything you can tell me? I mean, does he have any friends?” Harry wondered.  Miller had to have something he could tell Harry, they’d lived in the Slytherin dorms together for all of Hogwarts, gone to classes together, ate together. He’d surely know Malfoy better than Harry did. 

Miller scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “I don’t know that much about him these days... He was close with Pansy but she’s living in France now.”  

Harry rubbed at his eyes. “I don’t know. I need help.”  

Miller smiled at him sympathetically.   

Luna came out shortly with 3 mugs of tea. Harry and Miller took theirs and Luna settled into the recliner, tucking her legs up under her.  

Harry cleared his throat. “So, um, Luna, I trust that Robards has filled you in.”  

Luna nodded with a small smile. “Yes Harry, I shall take good care of you.”  

Harry flashed her a warm smile in return. “I know  you will. The reason I wanted to sit down together today is, well, I was wondering if we could throw some ideas around on how I can pull this off, so to speak.”  

Luna nodded again, looking thoughtful. “So you need to get close to Draco Malfoy.”  

Harry licked his lips. “Yeah. I need the Malfoys, and their associates, to not know it’s me.” He knew it wouldn’t be an easy feat. 

“Glamours?” Miller asked.  

“They wear off quite quickly, and you can usually tell who someone is if you look close enough, and if you’re used to their mannerisms,” Luna said. 

Harry suspected Luna had a point. He’d spent enough time at Hogwarts glaring at Malfoy from across the Great Hall, that he’d probably recognize his sneer on a slightly different face. 

Luna added, “Can’t you just tell Draco the truth and ask for his help?”  

Harry wished it could be that simple. “No... Robards was very clear. Undercover so that they don’t know me. There’s no alternative.”  

"Polyjuice?” Miller asked.  

Harry furrowed his brow. “Maybe. Who would I  polyjuice  into though? Besides, it lasts 12 hours at best. What if someone saw me drink it, or if it wore off and my cover was blown? It would be risky.”  

“Plastic surgery?” Miller joked.  

Harry smirked, shaking his head.  

“What about trans-potion?” Luna asked airily.  “It lasts longer than polyjuice and you wouldn’t have to use someone else’s identity.” 

Harry’s gaze snapped to Miller. “Wouldn’t  it be horrible of me to use a trans-potion?”  

Miller studied Harry’s face for a moment before replying, “It wouldn’t be horrible. It’s not like you’d be using trans-potion for a Halloween costume... People are being murdered. But... you might not be prepared for how  it  could make you feel.”  

“What do you mean?”  

“The way people like me can feel in our bodies growing up... Feeling...   _off_. If you’re cis-gendered now, becoming female  for an extended period of time  might be very difficult for you.”  

Harry processed this, looking at his hands. “I don’t really know if I’m cis-gendered.”  It’s not like Harry had really had much time to think about his gender identity. From battling Voldemort to his busy Auror work, it had been a lot. He’d only more recently realised his _sexual_ identity. He felt okay as a male, but didn’t really feel like being male defined him. In the moment, the idea of being in a female body, one that was entirely _himself_ (or should he say, _‘herself’_?) was, for lack of a better word, intriguing. 

He looked up at both Miller and Luna, they looked back at him  thoughtfully.  

“How long does the potion last?” Harry asked.  

Miller chewed on his lip. “A week, if you take a full vial at once.”  

“I’d like to try,” Harry decided.  

“It isn’t cheap,” Miller warned.  

“That’s alright. How can I get it?”  

“I can contact my supplier... You should tell me what adjustments you might want.” Miller went and grabbed a pad and quill from the desk in the corner.  

Harry considered  it.  “I guess I should eliminate all my scars... Maybe long hair? And my green eyes are kind of obvious, better to go with brown...  Change my nose a little?  Oh and, can they fix my vision?”  

Miller nodded,  writing all that down.  “Alright, I’ll talk to him tomorrow. We might get the potion next week, and can test it out then.”  

“Great, thanks Miller, really,” Harry said sincerely, taking a sip of his tea.  

“Don’t mention it,”  he said, smiling.   

“So, assuming I can pull off the  trans-potion, any ideas on how I can get close to Malfoy?”  

“At work?” Luna suggested.  

Harry scratched his beard. “I’d need an excuse to be at the Ministry. And then what, bump into him? Or... I could have a broom... situation?” he finished lamely.  

They were all  thoughtful  for a while, running through scenarios.  

Miller cleared his throat. “Maybe I can get you invited to one of the Malfoy’s garden parties.”  

Harry winced, he hadn’t been at the Manor since Hermione was tortured, and Dobby had been killed. But he’d have to admit that it was a fair idea.  

“What are their parties like?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.  

Miller frowned. “Pretty boring and pretentious. They get all dressed up and eat and dance.”  

“Dance,” Harry echoed, “I’m rubbish at dancing.”  

“Maybe you’re better as a girl,” Luna helpfully pointed out.  

Harry shot her a disbelieving look, she grinned at him.  

He huffed, “Actually that seems  simpler and more effective  than any other plan involving his work or anything else.” He  smiled at  his friends. “Thank you. Really. I think this feels... promising.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading so far, feedback is welcome xx


End file.
